Love Will Keep Us Alive
by Sayoko Bizen
Summary: A Conrad x Greta songfic with a lemon for a second chapter. Dedicated to the new Conrad x Greta fans out there, especially to Me La Kenzu and Aqua Alta.
1. Love Will Keep Us Alive

_**Sayo**: _I disclaim ownership of _Kyou Kara Maou _and "Love Will Keep Us Alive" by one of my favorite bands, The Eagles!

This is for my baby Wolfram and my beloved Akira. Mommy loves you!!!

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**Love Will Keep Us Alive**

Conrad smiled at the very young woman sleeping beside him and stroked her hair in an almost fatherly way, the way he was wont to do all those years ago. She had grown up a lot, had grown to love him. Their relationship had faced a lot of skepticism, but they have weathered through it. He kissed her forehead and smiled when she snuggled closer to him. She was his everything, the reason he lived.

_I was standing all alone against the world outside._

_You were searching for a place to hide._

_Lost and lonely, now you've given me the will to survive._

_When we're hungry, love will keep us alive._

His wife was the casualty of a happy marriage. Some children were devastated by divorce, but she had suffered the opposite. Her parents often looked past her eyes, lost in each other. It was Conrad who kept her together, and it was she who kept him from falling apart. She made him stronger; her vulnerability made him want to protect her. She gave Conrad a reason to go on.

Conrad held her closer, delighted when she snuggled into his warmth unconsciously.

_Don't you worry, sometimes you just gotta let it ride._

_The world is changing right before your eyes._

_Now I found you, there's no more emptiness inside._

_When we're hungry, love will keep us alive._

Her father was elected King of the whole Demon World after the Council of Kings determined that King Yuuri's pure heart would enable him to lead the New Union of Kingdoms and surely enough, his kindness and sound sense of justice did a world of wonders for all his subjects. The matter was, with King Yuuri now as absolute ruler of the world, father to four children and husband to Conrad's younger brother, Greta was unwittingly made an outsider, loved but sorely neglected because both Yuuri and Wolfram had their hands full. With Wolfram now as Yuuri's consort and champion, Conrad was now without a place by his king's side. It was natural how he had become the Princess' guardian.

Conrad could still remember the night of Greta's coming-of-age party. She was sixteen then, resplendent in a princess-cut white taffeta gown; her red hair, long and silky was let down and reached to her waist. The dress clung to the right places and showed off her full but slender figure and that was when he realized he would not be able to hand her over to anyone else. Yuuri and Wolfram had arranged for Greta to meet the eligible bachelors – lords, princes and only the richest of the rich young men to pay her court and she'd shunned them all, withdrawing to her room away from everyone. It was Conrad who had followed her there and she'd told him through teary chocolate eyes – not unlike his own -- that she did not want anyone else but him and he'd held her, never to let go. No time was wasted and in a few days they were married, surprising everyone. No one had thought Greta had been serious when she'd told Lady Celi she had wanted to marry Conrad nor did anyone have an inkling about Conrad's feelings about the matter until they'd walked down that Temple aisle and showed them all up. Thankfully, after their son Yuuri was born, everyone had forgotten about the issue; they'd become just another royal couple in the Blood Pledge Castle.

Conrad tucked Greta's head under his chin and pulled the covers over her when he felt her shiver. In his heart, he swore:

_I would die for you – climb the highest mountain!_

_Baby, there's nothing I wouldn't do!_

Sometimes Conrad himself wondered how he and Greta understood each other despite their almost 150-year age gap. She was nineteen now, and he was… he'd stopped counting at a hundred. However, they fulfilled a gap in each other's lives – needed each other like they've never needed anyone or anything before, and that was probably why they'd made it this far.

_I was standing all alone against the world outside._

_You were searching for a place to hide._

_Now I found you, there's no more emptiness inside._

_When we're hungry, love will keep us alive._

Conrad's musing was interrupted by a sharp wail from the bassinet beside their bed. Before he could gently slide his arm from beneath Greta's body she'd already gotten up, fed their baby Yuuri and gotten back to bed with him. Conrad chuckled. Greta was almost too efficient.

Greta lay down beside her husband, put his arm around her and smiled at him. "What?"

Conrad just smiled back and held her close to him. "I love you, my Princess. Good night,"

Greta just sighed contentedly and snuggled closer to him before she dozed off. "I love you too, Conrad."

_When we're hungry, love will keep us alive._


	2. Conrad x Greta LEMON NC17 rated

"Morning," Conrad said, his elbow on the mattress, hand supporting his head and thus effectively looming over his slowly waking wife and smiling at her. 

Greta's youthful tan which any self-respecting Japanese beach bunny would have been jealous of concealed any coloring her skin should have made but the expression in her eyes betrayed her shyness. She didn't think she would ever get used to the sight of her husband looking so boyish with his hair so ravishably ruffled that her voice was shaky at best when she whispered "'Morning," back, and her body was quaked from something that even now she still could not name.

Conrad drew closer and slid one arm underneath Greta's waist while he pressed her flush against him with his other hand that he'd placed was on the small of her back.

"Oh my…" she breathed, knowing already where this greeting was going. She felt the blood drain out of her cheeks and her insides suddenly felt positively empty with a void she knew only her husband would be able to fulfill.

Conrad looked into Greta's deep brown eyes and as always, he couldn't help but smile at his reflection in them. He was her first, her last, and her only – and hell if he was not proud of being this stunning redhead's first and only lover. She was his peace after a lifetime of wars against others as well as himself as he was the security and stability she'd been rewarded after her tremulous and tortured childhood. They were made for each other – it was seen in everything they did. However it was times like these when they were alone that they are able to understand their compatibility best.

Conrad knew he would always see her as she was that night. She was only sixteen, but she knew what she wanted and knew how to get it. She had been the one who asked him to bed her; to take her for himself so no one else could claim her. She had not been afraid, and trusted him not to hurt her – not if he could help it.

As Conrad took his wife in his arms he treated her as he did that night of her sixteenth birthday – like delicate crystal, brittle and fragile.

He softly traced the outline of her profile vertically starting from the top of her forehead, over her pert nose, on the little ridge which connected the partition of her nostrils to her top lip before he leaned in and confidently entered her waiting mouth with his tongue and crushing his lips on hers, moaning at the softness of them, reveling at how they instantly gave way to him. His finger continued its trailing down between her breasts until his hand finally rested on her stomach.

Greta took a second or two until she started to kiss back. She was still so young and thus naturally shy, but she had discovered on that very first night that Conrad was ticklish – very unbecoming of a soldier for sure, not that anyone else would ever get close enough to know. Greta managed to laugh a bit at that and deftly wormed her hands up under Conrad's shirt and tracing the perfectly-shaped pectorals and the firm abdominals before at last she held on to his sides, effectively making her husband gasp and break their tender kiss, for which she let out a disappointed whimper.

Conrad could not resist his desires any longer and asked his wife to sit on his lap, holding her close while he all but drove her insane with kisses of varying intensities all over her face and neck. He then drew up his legs to cushion her back comfortably while his hands made short work of her nightgown's lacings.

Greta managed to unhook every button of Conrad's pajama top without disengaging from their intimate embrace but when she did feel the need to breathe, her first words were not about Conrad's rather sizeable arousal pressing up against her inner thighs. "Baby…" she whispered, and he knew that it was not just a pet name. Greta was his wife, but he admired how above everything else she is his son's mother.

"Safe with the horde," Conrad huskily whispered, before taking Greta's earlobe into his mouth and suckling on it tenderly. By "horde" he'd meant King Yuuri's quadruplets – full blooded Mazoku who were actually six years old but looked to be the younger than Conrad and Greta's little Yuuri, a human two-year-old, for now the undisputed lord of the nursery. Little Yuuri like his grandfather was a good kid. It was a good thing too, or he would end up either cooked, drowned, blown away to wherever or swallowed up by the ground if his little uncles and aunts (who, come to think of it, were also his cousins) willed it upon him. They are royal Mazoku after all, already powerful even in infancy.

Now that his wife's anxiety about their firstborn was satisfactorily dealt with, he resumed his all-important mission of driving her mad with desire. He kissed her again, this time grinding his hips onto her straddled hips roughly, causing her to moan his name, a sound he swallowed in his mouth.

"Con… rad…" she pleaded as she peeled away Conrad's pajama top from his shoulders.

"My love…" he answered, his hand finally sliding down from its resting place on her stomach to between her thighs, stroking her gently until she started pushing back at him, and that was when he thought it best to finally untie both sides of her g-string and finally start pleasuring her with his fingers.

Greta bit her lip to keep from screaming her frustration when only one of Conrad's digits was slowly thrust between her lower lips. Not one to waste time, she grabbed hold of his hand and stuck all four others into her, pushing and pulling them into and out of her channel and making her husband finally want to replace his hand with something bigger and harder.

Greta opened her eyes to the sight of Conrad sensually licking her slick juices from his fingers and with her eyes she begged him to touch her. She need not have asked twice.

Conrad lowered his knees and parted his legs underneath Greta so he could lay her on her back on the mattress. Then he knelt before her and took off his pajama bottoms while she pulled her nightie over her head, revealing her body to him.

Conrad drank in the sight of dark and hardened nipples, flat abdomen on a slender waist, taut calf muscles, firm thighs and of course, her rosy pink opening at the apex on her thighs – that and even the little rosette of muscle of her hind quarters. Both fissures were equally inviting and open to him (if he really wanted), but there was absolutely no confusion about where he wanted to go.

Like that first night, he'd lain on top of her, covering every inch of her with himself, planting little kisses on her face, down to her neck. Then he got on his knees, still bent over her as he took one breast into his mouth, circling it with his tongue as his finger copied his mouth's motions over the other. His other hand busied itself at her opening again, slowly thrusting in and out, meeting her hips' movements at every crest, telling her of what was to come as he held his own dripping arousal in check to prolong their pleasure.

Greta parted her legs wider and raised her knees when she couldn't take it anymore as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her. She never screamed during orgasm and as such was a quiet moaner, but as rush after rush of her liquid fire met with Conrad's palm and fingers, he found his control slowly being torn and tattered until he had no choice but to position himself between her legs and lift them until her ankles were locked together behind his neck and he was perfectly poised at her wet entrance.

"Please, love… I can't bear to be separated from you any longer…" Greta begged, her hands clutching the pillows beneath her head and presenting a fairly desperate and passionate picture so that Conrad was helpless to do anything but at last fuse them into one single being.

Greta's mind was blank as she felt her husband's largeness deep inside her, threatening to rip her in two. It had been such a long time since he'd first taken her, but because of his size it always felt a little painful for her at first, what with her slight build. But as he rocked gently within her she knew he was holding himself back as much as he can, like he did when she willingly gave up her innocence to him. She unlocked her ankles from behind his neck to wrap them around Conrad'waist and put her arms about his neck, loving the friction between their bodies as they moved together towards that faraway light that soon enough engulfed them, scorching them both in its heat.

Conrad gritted his teeth as he felt Greta's muscles clamp around his erection. Coupled with the slipperiness of her it was almost too much to bear but he fought for control, worked to make it good for her. But every filament of temperance in him snapped when she whispered, "Let go, love. I can take it. I love all of you; every inch of you. Own me, my husband. I'm yours!" and that was that; he'd let go; ramming into her mercilessly, knowing now that it was what she wanted all along.

They climaxed together, and Greta's toes curled at the incomparable feeling of her husband's copious release inside her which she hoped would come to full flower as another child. For now though she could ask for nothing more as Conrad pulled her up on his lap again, seating her on his hips without withdrawing from within her, drawing his legs up again to cushion her as he once again started to kiss her gently, not really willing to end their union.

Greta took Conrad's face in her hands and kissed him deeply for the first time that morning. Until then she'd been the willing puppet and he'd been the very capable puppet master, guiding her every move and absolutely dominating her because she was young and still needed direction. But now was "round two" – payback time, and Conrad loved it when Greta avenged herself.

Greta continued to kiss Conrad's lips but kept her mouth shut to every attempt Conrad made to enter her mouth with his tongue. She wanted to take her time decking her husband's face with soft little kisses before she dealt true damage – hickeys placed in places so strategic that even her Uncle Gwendal would be proud of her tactics. When she came upon Conrad's neck, she sucked into her mouth a huge patch of skin and suckled and laved upon it until the blood all but rose from the pores, leaving a large and very conspicuous love-mark where she'd been. Greta smiled haughtily to herself as she imagined how much teasing Conrad would surely get from his troops because she'd unmistakably left her stamp on him.

Not so easily fazed, Conrad used his still-buried and semi-hard member to distract his wife, his thoughts reawakening arousal and instantly warming his shaft inside her, causing her to flinch and moan into his ear. Conrad grinned smugly. She can pretend to be the little vamp, but she's still my virginal little princess, he thought. He couldn't be more wrong.

Greta had learned a few tricks in the past couple of years, and as with any royal in battle, she would put anything she had into good use. From her sitting position on Conrad's lap, she got on her knees and proceeded to impale herself rapidly upon her husband's arousal, causing Conrad to squirm beneath her.

Just a little more, Greta thought. Then she dropped her trump card into play. She'd heard Wolfram say it to her father only once when she was still very little, but she knew she could bank on it now. "Fuck me," she said plainly, and surely enough, that was it. Conrad roughly lifted her off him and flipped her onto her back before he fell heavily upon her and started to just plain fuck her out of her mind. Then Conrad turned her over again, spread her legs wide and held on to her thighs so that he could see her opening before claimed her again and again and again until they both could not take it anymore, Conrad's release once again flooding Greta's recesses, totally filling her and leaving her utterly content.

They went to sleep with Conrad still deep inside his wife, renewing their passion whenever he woke up from shallow sleep every half hour or so, smirking sometimes because she woke up being as wanton as he, staying connected all the foreplay they needed.

That afternoon as they helped was each other in the bath, they were almost certain Little Yuuri Weller would not be an only child after today. He and his wife had started making love at sunrise, and it was now well after lunch. And even if Greta was not already pregnant now, there was always tomorrow, and when they hungered, they knew love would keep them alive.

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**_Sayo_**: This is for **Me La Kenzu** because she loves lemons as much as I do and because her reviews keep me going.

This is also for every new **Conrad x Greta **fan out there. Thank you for bearing the cynicism with me.

-bows deeply-


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